Ego Trip
by amai-kaminari
Summary: The mysterious 'Professor X' and 'White Queen' run a business where clients can pay to have any memory telepathically implanted for a price. When Erik walks into the clinic seeking their services, the memory turns out to be more realistic than he could ever have imagined. (A.K.A. X-men First Class meets Total Recall.)


_Welcome to CEREBRO. Let's Make Memories Together._

The splash screen on the monitor looked ominously cheerful.

_This is a bad idea_, Erik thought as he poked through the electronic catalog of CEREBRO Corp. offerings.

**Categories:** _Childhood_...

No. Definitely not.

_Domestic Scenes_...

Not out of the question, but not what he was looking for at the moment.

"Why am I even here?" Erik grumbled to himself as he continued navigating through the catalog. Tony Stark's bright ideas always spelled trouble for either himself or Ms. Potts. Erik knew that like he knew the sun would rise each morning. So why again was he here?

_Revenge_...

That had promise. Not today though.

This whole situation was Tony Stark's fault. If his boss hadn't forced Erik to attend that stupid corporate function, then Erik would never have met the man of his drea- fantasies, and none of this would have happened.

_Romance_...

Closer. Definite possibilities there.

Still, CEREBRO Corporation had come highly recommended, and even if Tony did have a sick sense of humor, Erik doubted that his boss would risk injury to his Executive Vice President of Engineering. Between Erik and Ms. Potts, Stark Industries was in good hands financially, which freed Tony up to fiddle with the toys in his basement. Besides, if Erik got hurt because of one of Tony's schemes, Ms. Potts vowed that she would _murder_ Tony in his sleep.

_Sexual Fantasies_...

Okay, that looked close enough.

Scanning the options on the screen, Erik quickly made his choice and walked up to the bored receptionist, who took his information then buzzed him through into the clinic area.

The receptionist - Angel, according to her name tag - led him into one of the client rooms. The room was sparsely decorated; all white walls, save a few candle-topped end tables. Something that looked like a plush dentist chair sat in the middle of the room. Classical music was playing softly overhead. The scent of lavender drifted through the air.

"Sit there with your head back and your feet up," Angel began before she turned to look at him. Something must have shown on his face because she stepped forward slowly, smiled, and spoke more softly, as if she were coaxing a frightened animal. "Hey, it's all right. Try to relax, okay? You're going to enjoy it. The Prof and the Queen do this all the time. We've got lots of regular customers. Satisfaction guaranteed."

She left him alone as he took his seat quietly. He took a few deep breaths, as instructed and tried to relax.

Relax. Relax. Think about Charles. How would his lips taste after a hard fuck? How would those brown waves feel twined between his fingers? How would it feel to gaze into those blue eyes as he thrust into Charles' willing body? How would Charles' skin taste when they woke up tangled together in the morning?

The soft music, the light incense, and the warmth of the plush chair were all tugging gently at his eyelids, having a soporific effect on him.

After a few minutes, a crystalline female voice echoed in the room.

"Welcome to CEREBRO. I'm here to guide you through the process of making your dream into a memory. I see you've chosen the "Working Hard" office scenario. An excellent choice. Before we can begin the memory implant, I will need to ask you a few questions about your fantasy. First, male or female?"

"Male," Erik answered reflexively.

"Do you want anything specific, Sugar? The more detail you give us, the more realistic we can make your fantasy."

He'd only met Charles once, but he could picture the man's face as clearly as if he were standing in front of him.

"Brown hair. Blue eyes. Red lips."

"Slutty or demure?"

"Demure."

Charles had a British accent and looked like the professor type. All buttoned up and proper.

But maybe something else lay underneath that mischievous smile?

"And slutty."

"Thank you, Mr. Lehnsherr. We're going to turn the lights low now to allow you to relax. Close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths. We'll begin the memory in a few moments."

The lights dimmed until the room was lit only by the electric tea light candles that peppered the tables and window sill.

"Charles..." He heard himself murmur as his eyes began to drift closed.


End file.
